


More than a Memory

by mythomagicallydelicious



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (descriptions of this episode all throughout), Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode: s01e03 Headhunters, Gen, Post-Weirdmageddon, Recovering Memories, more like filling out the thoughts of the grunkles, when stan is flipping through the scrapbook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 14:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10515426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythomagicallydelicious/pseuds/mythomagicallydelicious
Summary: Ford is taken by surprise at one of the more innocent-seeming memories in the beginning of the scrapbook as they try to regain Stan's memories after Weirdmageddon is over.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1

“Ah, shit.”

When Stanley was going through Mabel’s scrapbook, everyone else was looking over his shoulder, reliving it too. Everyone except for Ford, that is. He was experiencing most of these stories for the first time. When he saw the page with Wax Stan, Ford couldn’t help but curse quietly under his breath. The kids were too busy laughing and pointing out the details of the photo to hear him.

Ford mentally took a step back but continued staring at the picture of Stanley with Wax Stan. In one he’d had an arm slung behind Wax Stan’s back, the other pointing at Wax Stan’s grin, the look on his face clear even without Mabel’s caption. ‘ _Look at this guy! I love it!’ Grunkle Stan was so surprised at my statue that he screamed and fell over at first, but right after he came up and hugged it and told me how good it looked! He especially loved the glitter! (I know because I asked :) )._

On the next page, it got worse. The kids had taken a picture of Stan reopening the wax figures exhibit, proudly gesturing at his look alike. All of the pages were happy Stan doing activities with his body double.

Nothing prepared Ford for the next page of the tale of Wax Stan. There was a picture of the most dejected Stan, tears streaming down his face next to the decapitated body of Wax Stan. _Somebody murdered Wax Stan! The police don’t think we can help, but Dipper and I are gonna find who did it and avenge Grunkle Stan! And me! It took forever to get the head right, and then they killed him and took it! The Mystery Twins are on the case._

Ford felt bittersweet at the caption. _Stanley and I used to be the Mystery Twins…_

 The next photos were of the investigation, Dipper and Mabel taking silly shots.

But finally came what almost broke Ford completely. Grunkle Stan standing at the front of the back room, a coffin with a headless statue. _This is the service for Wax Stan. Grunkle Stan ran out after he started speaking, too choked up. Soos went out crying too, and comforted him. Then we had an epic battle with the rest of the wax figures in the room because we found out they were cursed to come to life and had tried to revenge kill our Grunkle for locking them away for so long. Dipper got chased by Sherlock Holmes until he lured him to the roof and was melted by the rising sun. We killed the rest with candles and fire stick pokey things._

The last picture was Grunkle Stan reunited with Wax Stan’s head, with the kids pulled onto his other knee, all smiling together. _A family photo, Grunkle Stan called it. Just the four of us, and Soos behind the camera. What an adventure!_

Ford didn’t even realize he was crying until he saw the tears splash the back of Stan’s chair. He wiped his eyes with one hand quickly, trying to make sure the kids didn’t see him. They were laughing, pointing out the epic fight Stan had entirely missed, about how smart Dipper was to lure Sherlock to the roof, Mabel’s insane candle twirling skills. But Ford barely heard them. He could only think of what Stan had gone through when, as if by magic, he saw that he could be with his lost twin again. The mention of fighting the cursed wax statues wasn’t even enough to derail Ford’s mind from what Stanley must have gone through. That first caption Mabel had written went through his head. _Grunkle Stan was so surprised at my statue that he screamed and fell over at first, but right after he came up and hugged it and told me how good it looked!_

He was so surprised he _screamed. He fell over_. Ford could easily imagine Stan’s reaction to this. His expression when Ford had first come through the portal had initially been filled with fear and hope, before breaking into anger from Ford’s punch. Ford sighed and discreetly wiped at his eyes again. He didn’t deserve a brother like Stanley. Stan, who’d suffered so much and gotten so little in return.

Leaning back down closer to the scrapbook, Ford refocused on the conversation. _I will try to be the brother this man deserves_ , he thought to himself. _Starting with interacting with the family like he’d want me to._ Pointing out a new picture a few pages from the wax figures, Ford asked a question about the scene. Mabel laughed and explained everything in sweeping gestures, while Dipper recapped her words in a more realistic rendition. Looking to the side, he saw Stan smile and pat the kids on the head.

_Maybe there’s hope for us after all, Stanley. I can be more than a statue, more than a memory._


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same scene, but from Stanley's perspective as he tries to piece it all together.

The man looked down at the scrapbook in his lap. On either side he was bookended by two kids who would point out different pictures and tell stories about the adventures within the pages before him. He knew somewhere above him was an older man, but he hadn’t heard him speak in quite a while, besides to lead him back to this shack of a house.

The kids _, Dipper and Mabel_ , he reminded himself. They’d told him their names, and they felt more familiar than anything else had, so far. Dipper and Mabel waved their hands around in wild gestures while they told their stories. From the very beginning, they seemed too wild to be true. But even that big guy in the corner who’d been crying as he walked in was backing up the stories. The man felt something familiar about him, too. He’d remembered his name in a burst of memories earlier, flashing through quickly before leaving him in the dark again. _Soos. My employee, and something…more?_ The man shook his head. He’d figure it out when it was less confusing. _If this ever_ feels _less confusing._

The first few pages were nice. Not a lot of commotion, just starting off the summer and getting to know the great uncle they’d been sent to spend time with. _Me. That’s supposed to be me._

The man knew they’d told him his name. But it felt so disconnected. He didn’t _feel_ like that was really who he was. And while the pictures he was shown started to stir something in his gut, he couldn’t connect the pictures and captions to who he actually was. He felt too…empty for that. And yet, somehow, that emptiness felt familiar, too.

The man shook his head. _Just focus on the kids and their words. I’ll figure it out as we go._ He held his breath for a moment in confusion. _Weird. Flying by the seat of my pants feels familiar too. What kind of guy_ was _I?_

Letting out the breath he’d been holding, he returned his attention to the pages before him. As he turned to the next story, he heard a slight hitch in the rhythm of breathing behind him, and a small curse filter through the air to his ears. It was so faint, he was sure the kids didn’t hear it. The girl _, Mabel, her name is Mabel_ , let out a squeal at that same moment that had the man twist one finger in his ear and wish he could adjust his hearing aids.

He’d all but forgotten there was another person in the room, breathing down his neck as they looked over the scrapbook together. _He said his name is Ford. He didn’t give any reason for him being here. Not like these other three did. A concerned friend? Another employee?_ The man gave up the questions and focused on the page.

“Look, look! This is when Soos discovered the Hall of Wax Historical Figures display!” Mabel was shouting in his ear. Dipper named all of the figures in the shot while Mabel told him the story. “One of them had melted—Abe Lincoln, and you got so upset!—and you told me I could use the wax to make a NEW figure!!” The girl bounced excitedly beside him.

“Ha, I did? If your sculpting skills are as good as your scrapbooking, then it musta been a great new figure!” The man smiled and laughed as the girl flung an arm around his neck and told him _thank-you-thank-you-thank-you-Grunkle-Stan-it-was-amazing_ and the man just laughed again, adjusting his gaze to the next page.

A flicker of sadness rushed through him as he gazed down at the next photo. The little girl lifted her arm from around his neck and was showing him all the finer points of her sculpting. The man compared the two figures in the photo—one a wax statue giving a thumbs up, the other an old man slinging one arm around the wax figure’s neck and pointing with a huge grin on his face as if to say—

“’Look at this guy! I love it!’ Those were your exact words, Grunkle Stan!” the girl shouted next to him. The man kept reading the caption as the kids pointed out the man in the photo’s grin. “I mean, you weren’t expecting to see your wax doppelganger, but then you told me how good it looked, especially the glitter!” The man laughed again and agreed, telling her it was a good job.

The boy, _Dipper—there’s no way that’s his real name, right,_ turned the page and pointed out all the shots of the man and the wax figure doing different activities together. The man wondered what this guy’s deal with a wax version of himself was.

The old man in the photos had a huge grin on in every frame, somehow touching or holding the wax figure. _Jeez, what an ego on this guy, huh? To love a wax version of himself so stinking much_. The man sitting in the dilapidated house refused to connect the dots between the pictures of this old guy and himself, but his body remembered for him on the next photo.

There was a picture of utter dejection and sadness, tears streaming down the old man’s face, next to a headless wax statue. Mabel took over where Dipper, _hey, I got their names right this time_ , left off, talking about the toothpaste deductions and how Dipper could basically be a detective, continuing on about the story in his ear.

 “The Mystery Twins were on the case!” Mabel threw in excitedly. The man felt his fingers tighten on the edges of the scrapbook momentarily, body tense before he made himself relax. For a moment the man had heard an echo of shouting; “ _No!” and “Please!” and “Not again!”_ before it slipped away, leaving him back on the comfy chair with two kids on either arm, prattling about the serious investigating they did around town, silly shots of the two of them as they got deeper in the case of who murdered Wax Stan.

The next photo was almost worse, the man thought. It was definitely morbid. The headless wax figure was in a coffin while the old man was at the front, shoulders hunched and the loss clearly written all over his face. Looking at the caption did him in, though. _This is the service for Wax Stan. Grunkle Stan ran out after he started speaking, too choked up. Soos went out crying too, and comforted him._ The man paused for a second and looked at the big guy sitting on the—what is that, some sort of coffee table?—next to him. _Soos. My employee and…_ the man felt something stir in him, a fierce desire to protect this man, and a softer feeling of affection. _Hmm, this guy really_ was _important to me. I guess I’ll be figuring that one out for a while._

Looking back down at the scrapbook, he kept reading. _Then we had an epic battle with the rest of the wax figures in the room because we found out they were cursed to come to life and had tried to revenge kill our Grunkle for locking them away for so long. Dipper got chased by Sherlock Holmes until he lured him to the roof and was melted by the rising sun. We killed the rest with candles and fire stick pokey things._

“You kids did what? There’s no way you took on a whole wax army—how’d that happen?” And with that question the kids— _Dipper and Mabel_ —bounced in their spots and reenacted the great battle that he apparently missed. The man laughed and gasped in all of the right places, encouraging them and smiling at them to continue on.

The man chuckled and turned his attention from Dipper’s last quip about what Wax Sherlock Holmes had said to him and looked down at the scrapbook again. The last picture in the saga of Wax Stan was a group photo, with Dipper and Mabel on either side of Stan, who was holding Wax Stan in one arm.

_A family photo, Grunkle Stan called it. Just the four of us, and Soos behind the camera. What an adventure!_ If everything those kids said was true, then it was an adventure this guy had mostly missed out on. Still, the man holding the scrapbook did feel like he was staring at his family. He felt something wet splash the back of his neck, just a tiny bit. _Oh yeah,_ he thought _, this fella is still here. Crying—no that can’t be right, he hasn’t cried in front of me since tenth grade—_ “Whoa!” the man yelled, one hand reaching up to halt the flow of words still coming from Mabel.

“What is it Grunkle Stan? Are you remembering?!” her voice took on a shrill pitch that had the man wincing but he didn’t ask her to quiet down.

“Eh, I don’t know yet kid, but can you start this one over? I was still finishing the last story and you jumped straight into evil ten year olds with unreasonable hair. How am I supposed to take that?” He laughed and the girl hugged him around the neck again and started over. Dipper leaned over and began waving his hands for this story too, while Mabel flipped between the pages and pointed out all of the fantastical, crazy events that transpired.

That’s when the man above him spoke, reaching with one of his six-fingered hands down to point at something in the book and ask a question. _Sixer_ , the nickname flashed across his mind as Mabel answered his question.

The man above him— _Sixer_ —laughed along with the kids, and the man smiled, patting the two little gremlins on either side of him on their heads.   

_It’s already working_ , he thought _. These pictures are more than a memory pressed between pages. It’s becoming_ real _. I am Stan Pines, and this is my family. This is who I am. Maybe there’s hope for us after all._


End file.
